


Ghosts Inside My Bed

by Philosoferre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: Bucky's still- well, he's not great, even though he's now in a safe place. So Steve, ever the best friend, decides to spend the night with him, just this once. However, like all terrible ideas, it doesn't end after one time.Or perhaps it wasn't a terrible idea. Steve hasn't decided yet.





	Ghosts Inside My Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write about a sleepy Steve, and then my hand slipped. Welp.

Bucky’s…  _ changed _ . Steve knew that, of course, before he brought Bucky to the compound, but it’s more glaringly obvious now that their lives are a little more domestic, and they aren’t either fighting each other or their friends. Well. Steve’s friends. They haven’t warmed up to Bucky yet. Steve understands, on some level, why they’re still scared, why they don’t trust him yet. Bucky’s still not himself, and he’s more unstable than he’s willing to admit. But Steve has faith in Bucky - that’s why he brought him back here, even though Tony didn’t think it was a good idea.

  


And Steve’s not worried about Bucky, he really isn’t. Bucky can handle himself, and he’s already proved he’s willing to get better. Steve’s just a little worried about leaving him alone. If Steve has one problem with this situation, it’s that Bucky’s room isn’t on the same level as his.

  


“I think you did the right thing.”

  


Steve glances at Natasha where she’s leaning against his open doorway, arms crossed. He clears his throat and nods at the bedsheets in his hands, which he keeps putting on his bed and then taking off. They just never seem to fit.

  


“Thanks,” he says. Then, a little quieter, “Buck deserves it.”

  


Natasha nods curtly. “He seems to be adjusting well.”

  


“Yeah,” Steve says, instead of saying what he actually wants to.  _ I wouldn’t know _ , he thinks, the thought tugging at his heart. He’s usually good at reading people, but he can’t ever seem to know what Bucky’s thinking or feeling. Steve assumes he’s just gotten used to hiding behind a wall from his days at Hydra. Either that, or he doesn’t want Steve to know. He isn’t sure which is worse.

  


“You okay?” Natasha asks, lips turned in a subtle frown. Before Steve can answer, she closes the door behind her and sits in the armchair Tony put by his bookshelf. It looks out-of-place in Steve’s room. Too chunky, too fancy. The upholstery bothers him.

  


Steve bites his lip and looks at Natasha again. He might not know a lot about her, but she’s one of his best friends, and she’s always been there for him. She deserves to know.

  


“I haven’t seen him today,” Steve says. His heart hammers in his chest. “At all. He hasn’t left his room.”

  


Natasha nods. “I know.”

  


“I just-” Steve balls his hands into fists, clenching the bedsheets so tight he thinks they’re going to rip. “I want to help him but he won’t let me. He’s not letting me  _ in _ , keeps hiding behind those walls.” Steve’s voice breaks and he holds back a sob. “I just need my Bucky back.”

  


Steve buries his face in his hands and sniffles. He doesn’t mean  _ his _ Bucky, because he definitely doesn’t own him. He just means the man he knew from seventy years ago, the Bucky who dragged him to nerdy science conventions and won teddy bears at fairs - the Bucky from before Hydra. And it isn’t like he doesn’t like this Bucky, he does. It’s just… Steve still sees too much Winter Soldier and not enough Bucky, and sometimes it’s hard to convince himself that his old friend’s even there.

  


“Steve,” Natasha says softly. She reserves this voice for him only. “I think you have him. You just need to start looking for the things that make him your Bucky instead of the things that make him different.”

  


_ Your Bucky. _ The words leave a lingering sweet taste on Steve’s tongue, and it makes him want more.  _ Your Bucky. My Bucky. _

  


Steve ends up going to check on Bucky not long after Natasha leaves, leaving the bedsheets a mess on the floor. He passes Tony and Bruce in the loft, quietly discussing something about technology Steve doesn’t understand, and they don’t bother to ask where he’s going. The only other room on this level is Bucky’s.

  


Almost every wall in the loft has dents and splinters, undoubtedly from Bucky’s fists. During his first week here, nearly a month ago, Bucky had spent most of his free time punching anything within reach. Steve didn’t blame him. He had a lot of pent-up anger over Hydra and over himself. Steve thinks he’s still angry, only he isn’t showing it as much. But he sees it in the way he carries himself, in the tension in his shoulders and the inscrutable grey of his eyes.

  


Bucky’s door is open, a thin beam of light spilling out into the hallway and making the floors glisten. Steve takes a deep breath before going inside, one hand stead on the door. Bucky doesn’t even look up at him, just keeps staring into empty space. It’s unnerving, filling the air with a sort of quiet discomfort. 

  


“Buck,” Steve says, almost like a whisper. Bucky turns his head. That’s probably as much as Steve’s going to get from him. “You haven’t eaten anything today. You need- you should. I can order a pizza, or something?”

  


“‘M not hungry,” Bucky says. His jaw and hands keep twitching, as if one wrong movement could cause him to explode. Steve doesn’t doubt it. There are too many things he keeps to himself, too many burdens on his shoulders. 

  


Steve crosses his arms. “Bucky, please. Talk to me.”

  


“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky says. His voice breaks a little, and so does Steve’s heart. Bucky might’ve died seventy years ago, but Steve’s never felt like he’s lost him more. 

  


“Please,” Steve says. He kneels in front of Bucky and tries to ignore how much it hurts when Bucky looks away. “Please, Buck, let me in. Let me help you. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  


Bucky doesn’t say anything, and Steve wonders if he did anything wrong. A cold dread washes over him, sinks low in his stomach and deep in his bones. As much as he doesn’t like admitting it, Bucky’s still unstable. He’s still unpredictable and uncontrollable, and Steve still has that nagging thought at the back of his mind, telling him he should fear Bucky. At any moment, Bucky could go back to being The Winter Soldier. He could tear down the whole compound if he wanted to. 

  


“I remember,” Bucky says carefully. He’s cautious with his words, afraid to say something that’ll get him in trouble. “I remember everything, Steve, and I wish I didn’t. I… god, I remember everything I did.  _ Everything. _ ”

  


There’s raw pain in his voice, streaks of red anger and worn-down trails left behind from all the tears he doubtlessly cried. Bucky doesn’t like the Avengers knowing he’s human, that he feels guilty about the things he did, but Steve knows. That’s all that matters. Steve knows, and he’s determined to help Bucky realize that his past doesn’t have to define his present, or his future.

  


“Come down and eat with us,” Steve urges. He reaches out for Bucky’s hand and frowns when Bucky pulls away. He’s still wearing that leather glove, and he hasn’t taken it off since they got here. He tries to hide as much of his metal arm as he can, doesn’t like people seeing it. Steve understands. “Bucky, please. You don’t have to talk to anyone.”

  


Bucky nods. He still looks a little overwhelmed. “Okay.”

  


Steve does end up ordering pizza for dinner, even though Wanda keeps arguing that they should use the kitchen they have, and Bucky joins them ten minutes after it arrives. He sits on the very end of the couch, tucked into a corner beside Steve, and doesn’t really talk to anyone. Natasha gives Steve a sympathetic smile. 

  


“Is he okay?” Tony asks, after they’ve cleared the empty pizza boxes. Bruce and Clint are arguing over which movie to watch - Steve thinks it’s down to Jurassic Park or Ghostbusters, but he isn’t sure.

  


“He’s fine,” Steve says. 

  


Tony holds his hands up defensively. “Hey, look, I’m just asking. Barnes doesn’t seem fine to me.”

  


Steve rolls his eyes. He’s not in the mood for a trademarked Tony Stark lecture. “Well, he  _ is _ fine.”

  


“Okay,” Tony says, entirely unconvincing. He keeps an eye on Bucky until Sam starts Ghostbusters. 

  


They’re all unusually quiet as they watch the movie. The only things Steve can hear are Bucky’s breathing and the crunch of popcorn. Bucky’s still tucked in the couch corner, his feet pressed against Steve’s thigh. It’s not uncomfortable, even though the tension between them is thick, and they haven’t really talked since before dinner. Steve knows that Bucky has a lot going on, too much noise in his mind, and it just makes him sad. Because he knows it isn’t his fight or his problem, and as much as he wants to do something to help, he isn’t sure what he  _ can _ do. 

  


They’re well into the movie when Steve feels Bucky tense, his breaths going from steady to uneven. He reaches a hand out, hovering above Bucky’s leg, and whispers, “Bucky?”

  


Bucky silently takes his hand, slipping his fingers between Steve’s, and gives him a soft, reassuring squeeze. And that’s more than enough.

  


Bruce and Tony fall asleep before the movie ends, so instead of staying up to play that weird card game Clint has, the rest of them head to sleep. It’s late, not late enough for Steve to fall asleep but late enough for him to feel tired, and the world outside is already pitch dark. Jarvis turned off all the hallway lights an hour ago, except for the little fluorescent squares lining the floors. Tony’s idea, so that none of them trip on the way to the bathroom. Steve intends to go back to his room, honestly, but he ends up following Bucky upstairs and only realizes that once they’re at the door.

  


“Um,” Bucky says. 

  


Steve rubs the back of his neck. He feels a blush creeping up his face, but he doesn’t know why. “Uh, I just- I thought, maybe you’d-”

  


“Come in,” Bucky says, a little less seriously, holding the door open. 

  


Steve doesn’t spend a lot of time hanging out with Bucky, and he’s well aware of that. He’s not really sure why he followed him here, though. Maybe it’s because he wanted some quality friend time. Maybe it’s because he didn’t want Bucky to be alone. Maybe it’s because  _ he _ didn’t want to be alone.

  


“Look,” Steve says, leaning against the wall. He tries not to follow the movements of Bucky’s muscles as he pulls his shirt off, his back to Steve. He’s trying to hide his metal arm, again. “I don't want you to be alone tonight, Buck. I thought-”

  


Bucky turns to face him, eyes cold and clouded with an emotion Steve can’t describe. “You think I need supervision.”

  


“No,” Steve blurts. He sighs. “No, I just… I don’t think you want to be alone either. And maybe… if I stayed with you, maybe you won’t get as much nightmares. Maybe it’ll be easier to, you know, sleep.”

  


Bucky’s eyes go wide. “How do you know about that?”

  


Steve shrugs. “I didn’t, I just guessed. I get nightmares. Sometimes. I thought you would too, after all the- after Hydra. It just made sense.”

  


Bucky nods and reaches to grab his pajama shirt off his bed. Steve can see the tension in his shoulders. He hates that Bucky doesn’t feel like he can talk to him, like he needs to hide everything from the world. 

  


“Please,” Steve says, a little quieter. “Let me stay with you, just for tonight.”

  


He’s surprised when Bucky nods. He hadn’t been expecting Bucky to give in so quickly, but maybe he’s just coming at this with too much assumptions. Bucky’s changed a lot since the forties. 

  


Steve lets Bucky change in peace, instead opting to look around his room and browse through his bookshelves. Amongst his collection of military books and so-called Captain America biographies, nearly identical to Steve’s, are a few books on the history of The Winter Soldier. The assassinations, the legend, Hydra… it’s all there. Steve frowns. Of course Bucky would want to read about himself, see what he did through different lenses. It only makes Steve want to shelter him more, wrap his arms around him and hide him from anyone who thinks he’s a bad man. Because Bucky’s not, no matter what anyone else says. Steve just wishes Bucky could understand that.

  


“Are you-?” Bucky asks, gesturing at the bed. 

  


Steve shrugs. “If you don’t mind.”

  


Bucky blinks at him. “Uh, no. Sure, you can- we can share, that’s not-”

  


Steve and Bucky awkwardly get into bed, the covers barely stretching over the both of them. There’s a chasm between them, a deep, dark abyss of unspoken words and thoughts and feelings. Steve feels it, and he’s pretty sure Bucky does too. But neither of them mention it. 

  


“Bucky?” Steve whispers. 

  


Bucky understands what he wants. He shifts so that they’re closer, nearly touching, and then Steve slowly turns until he’s on his side, Bucky’s back fitting against his chest. He can feel Bucky’s heartbeat, in sync with his own. And then, almost carefully, Steve wraps his free arm around him, feeling the burning of his skin through his shirt. The contrast between Bucky’s cold metal arm and the warmth of his abdomen sends shivers down Steve’s spine. He’s in a cool in-between, not uncomfortably hot and not uncomfortably cold. It’s pleasant, to say the least.

  


“Is this okay?” Steve asks, voice low. He moves so that his lips brush against the space between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

  


“Always,” Bucky mumbles, drifting asleep. His breathing’s evened out. Steve can feel the vibrations of his voice against his chest and it hums through his bones, making every nerve electric. 

  


He falls asleep to the relaxed beat of Bucky’s heart and the feeling of metal against his arm.

  


-

  


It continues like this for another month. Steve comes whenever Bucky needs him, or whenever he needs Bucky, and every time he wakes up, Bucky is either staring at the wall again or making breakfast downstairs. He has a habit of cooking when he’s stressed or upset, and no one’s complaining. Tony asked once, after Bruce had forced everyone to come help him garden, why Steve keeps disappearing at night, why he always goes upstairs. Steve isn’t so sure what his friends would make of the situation, so he had just said,  _ I have trouble sleeping sometimes _ and left it at that.

  


Steve’s outside with Natasha now, examining the cracks in the pavement. Tony hates imperfections in his buildings, so he sends them out every two weeks to make sure everything’s intact. Natasha’s been filling the cracks with cement for the past hour, and Steve’s been holding the cement bucket. His arm’s getting tired, which is just great, because it’s the arm Bucky always sleeps on. 

  


“You okay?” Natasha asks, tilting the bucket towards her. 

  


Steve shrugs. “Just tired.”

  


Natasha narrows her eyes, lips pursed, and keeps diligently filling the cracks. There’s a long, jagged line running through a big slab of pavement from where Tony played with one of his newer models. Why they’re the ones cleaning it up, he doesn’t know.

  


“How’s Barnes?” Natasha asks.

  


“Uh- he’s fine.”

  


Natasha hums. “I guess your arrangement is working out fine, then.”

  


Steve nearly drops the bucket, eyes wide. “How did you-?”

  


“You think I don’t notice you sneaking into his room every night?” Natasha dusts her hands on her pants and stands up, nodding at her work. She leads Steve over to the other end of the crack. God, Tony and his dumb projects. “Look, I don’t care what you guys do in there. I’m just glad you’re both doing better.”

  


“We don’t do anything,” Steve splutters. He tries to push down the thought that’s telling him _ maybe we should. _

  


Natasha shrugs. “Well anyway, we’re- um, I hope he’s okay now. Not as flighty, you know.”

  


“He’s getting there,” Steve says, sighing. 

  


They don’t do anything fun that night, so it’s just Steve and Bucky in the loft, quietly watching some talk show on tv. Bucky’s been silent the whole day, which makes Steve a little sad. He thought Bucky knew he could talk to him if he needed. Maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he wasn’t clear enough.

  


“Any plans for tomorrow?” Steve asks, and then mentally slaps himself. Seriously? He can’t think of anything else to say?

  


Bucky shrugs, eyes downcast. Steve wishes he’d look up. He likes his eyes. “Not really. I don’t ever leave this place, so.”

  


“We could go out,” Steve suggests. He slaps himself again. “New York’s not too far. Or, uh, I’m sure there’s things to do around here.”

  


Bucky looks up at him, frowning. He’s fidgeting with his hands. “I don’t know, maybe.”

  


He goes to his room without another word and Steve follows him. When they get there, Bucky slams the door behind Steve and crosses his arms. 

  


“I don’t know if I’m worth all this,” Bucky says. His voice breaks a little.

  


Before he can say anything else, Steve pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. He can smell the shampoo Bucky uses, coconut and lemon, and then he realizes it’s the same one he uses. Steve doesn’t really know what to make of that.

  


“Yes you are,” he says, tightening his grip on Bucky. “You’re worth everything, Buck.”

  


He feels Bucky smile and lets out a huff. If it were up to Steve, they wouldn’t be letting go any time soon. But it’s not up to him, and Bucky lets go too quickly, before Steve even has time to savour the moment. 

  


“If you say so,” Bucky says, every word tainted with that familiar self-destructive sadness Steve hates. He takes his shirt off and climbs into bed, and that’s when it hits Steve.

  


Steve always knew there was something charming about Bucky. He’s undeniably handsome, always has been, but ever since The Winter Soldier, there’s been something  _ more _ . Something alluring and dark, something Steve wanted to discover. It hits him now, when he sees Bucky lying on the bed, shirtless, that he’s attracted to him. He knows he loves Bucky, he’d do anything for him - but now it’s a little more, well, physical. 

  


And Steve realizes too that this is the first time in two months Bucky’s been comfortable enough to stay without a shirt. Steve used to not understand why he was so desperate to hide his body, considering it’s now making him uncomfortably turned on, but he gets it now. It’s the metal arm, the one Bucky’s so self-conscious about. It doesn’t attach to his body nicely - there’s scar tissue and wrinkled flesh, and his whole left shoulder looks like a mess. Steve wouldn’t like other people seeing that, if it were him. 

  


But there’s something endearing about that mess. It reminds Steve that Bucky’s human, that he’s not just a cold-blooded assassin. 

  


“You planning on staying up all night?” Bucky asks. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

  


Steve makes a face. “No.”

  


He crawls in next to Bucky, letting the covers fall around him, and reaches a hand out. Bucky looks down at his hand. Neither of them say anything. The darkness is heavy around them.

  


“Can I-?” Steve asks, hesitant. 

  


Bucky looks at his hand, then up at his face, and then down again. Steve can’t tell what he’s thinking. Bucky nods slowly. Steve doesn’t know what to expect when he touches the scarred tissue around the metal arm, but it’s much softer than he would have imagined. He looks at Bucky the entire time, keeps his touches gentle and soft and, hopefully, loving. He trails his fingers along the edge of the metal and on his collarbone, lets his hand rest in the dip of his shoulder blade. Bucky’s breath stills. 

  


“Thank you,” Steve whispers, pulling his hand away. 

  


Bucky smiles at him. It’s the best thing Steve’s seen all month. “Yeah. Anytime.”

  


Steve barely sleeps that night, one arm barely touching Bucky’s side. He’s too afraid to touch him now, after that moment he can only describe as intimate. Bucky’s never shown himself like that around anyone else. He’s vulnerable in ways Steve will never understand, and it’s so humbling to know that out of everyone, Bucky chose him. 

  


Bucky  _ chose _ him. 

  


-

  


It’s the end of June, hot enough that Clint refuses to leave any windows closed and Bruce treats them all to homemade ice cream. Steve, who normally doesn’t like leaving his bedroom windows open, doesn’t mind the cool night breeze when he stays with Bucky. That just means they aren’t sticky in the mornings, which saves Steve from the rather terrible and embarrassing situation of either having to shower in Bucky’s bathroom, or risk passing another Avenger on the way to his own. 

  


Steve and Bucky are lounging in bed, sharing memories and stories of their time in the war, when there’s a persistent knock at the door. The only person who knows Steve comes up here is Natasha. What could she want?

  


Steve just shuffles out of bed, not bothering to put a shirt on, and is surprised to see Tony on the other side of the door, dressed in an impeccable suit. It’s not even noon.

  


“What?” Steve asks. He sees Bucky sit up in the corner of his eye.

  


Tony holds a hand up. “Hey, I’m not judging. Am I judging? No. You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

  


“It’s early, Tony,” Steve says, exasperated. He’s not even going to ask how Tony knew to find him up here. Natasha probably told him. Or maybe he figured it out by himself.

  


“I need you and Barnes to go get something important,” Tony says, unfazed. He tries to look for Bucky, but Steve closes the door just enough so that he can’t see him. “Queens. I’ll text you the address. Be there by three.”

  


They get to Queens an hour early and spend most of their free time walking down the streets. It’s fairly hot outside, but Bucky refuses to take off his jacket. Steve bothered him to wear a tank top, the nice red one Clint gave him as a “welcome home gift”, and he’s kind of disappointed that Bucky’s hiding it. Only a few people have stopped them for pictures or autographs, and most of them hadn’t even recognized Bucky. Steve isn’t sure whether he’s reassured by that or not.

  


“A Starbucks, huh?” Bucky asks, glancing at Steve’s phone. “What, did Stark send us to get his coffee order?”

  


Steve snorts. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  


He’s so busy waiting for a text from Tony with his order that he almost doesn’t notice the kid that approaches their table, eyes and mouth wide. Bucky taps his arm with his metal hand, the cold sending jolts down Steve’s spine. 

  


“Oh my god,” Peter Parker says, his voice an octave higher than normal. “Wow, Captain America, I can’t- this is huge. Seriously, thank you so much for coming down here, I- I didn’t think Mr. Stark would actually send someone.” His eyes go even wider, and Steve notices that Bucky isn’t wearing his jacket anymore. His metal arm’s on full display, glinting in the sunlight. “Oh, wow, The Winter Soldier! I’ve heard about you, man, you’re so awesome. I mean-”

  


“Slow down, Peter,” Steve says, gesturing at the empty seat in front of him. He feels Bucky tense beside him. He doesn’t like being reminded of his Winter Soldier days.

  


Peter smiles awkwardly before sitting down, tossing his backpack beside him. Steve met him once before, when Tony brought him to the compound a few months ago after finding out he’s Spider-Man.

  


“A kid?” Bucky asks, unimpressed. “Tony sent us here for a kid? I’m not babysitting.”

  


“N-no, Sir,” Peter says hastily. “Do I call you Sir? I don’t know. Mr. Stark, uh, he said I could spend the summer with you guys, at your- um, at your place. It’s such an honour, really. To get to stay with the Avengers, wow.”

  


Steve glances at Bucky, who just sighs into his hand. He really wasn’t expecting to pick up a kid, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to spend the summer housing said kid. Now there’s one more person he and Bucky have to hide their arrangement from.

  


But Peter’s a good person, and he looks so eager to spend time with them, and Steve really can’t say no to that face.

  


-

  


“What the hell, Stark?” Bucky asks, the minute they get some private time without Peter hanging around. Tony had sent Sam to show him around and get him settled in his room, which is inconveniently located right next to Bucky’s. “I thought you said we had to get something important.”

  


Tony looks offended. “Kid’s important.”

  


“And you couldn't have told us about your plan?” Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He had to endure a long car ride with a fifteen-year-old kid who wouldn’t stop asking questions. That’s not how he likes spending his afternoons. “We didn’t sign up to run a summer camp.”

  


“I knew this was going to happen,” Tony says. “I knew you’d all say no. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  


Bucky crosses his arms. He looks even more intimidating with his metal arm out. And no, he doesn’t remind Steve of an angry kitten. Not at all. “Seriously? That's a stupid excuse.”

  


Tony scoffs. “Well-”

  


“Okay, settle down,” Steve says, keeping himself between Tony and Bucky. If either of them notices his hand firmly placed on Bucky's chest, they don't say anything. “Let's not fight about this. Peter's here, we should at least be good hosts. Okay? Okay.”

  


Bucky looks like he's about to explode. Before he can say anything else, Tony flashes them a charming smile and heads off to find Peter. Steve takes his hand off his chest and steps back. 

  


“So you think it's fine he didn't tell us?” Bucky asks. 

  


Steve sighs. “No, I don't. But there's no use arguing over it now.”

  


Bucky spends the rest of the evening sulking in the loft, and Steve never gets the chance to talk to him again because they’re all so busy with Peter. It’s a nice change, actually. Life at the compound had been getting a little boring, with all the routine. And besides, Peter’s great. 

  


They’re just about to start some movie on Netflix, a romcom Peter recommended, when Sam taps Steve on the shoulder and hands him a bowl of popcorn. 

  


“Hey, where’s Bucky?” Sam asks.

  


Steve realizes then, as Tony struggles with the remote, that he hasn’t talked to Bucky in a few hours. He hasn’t seen him at all, actually, now that he thinks about it. He feels bad that Bucky isn’t watching the movie with them - or, well, that they’re watching it without him. But maybe he just wants to be alone. 

  


“I don’t know,” Steve says, shrugging. “Last time I saw him he was in the loft.”

  


He tries to ignore how empty he feels without Bucky pressed against him. 

  


-

  


Steve lies in bed for two hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. His bed seems too big, the covers aren’t right, and when he stretches his arm out, he doesn’t feel the familiar warmth of another body. It’s just too cold, too empty, and Steve isn’t used to sleeping alone. Okay. So maybe he’s gotten attached to Bucky. Maybe that’s not a good thing. 

  


Steve tries to fall asleep, doing every trick Sam told him about, but after another half hour he gives up and goes to Bucky’s room. The compound is quiet, almost too quiet, and Steve’s afraid that every noise he makes is going to wake someone up. Peter’s room is right next to Bucky’s, but when Steve glances inside, making sure not to move the door too much, he finds that Peter’s sound asleep, facing the other wall. That’s one less thing to worry about.

  


Bucky looks like he’s asleep. He hasn’t moved since Steve stepped inside his room, and he’s- well, he’s shirtless again, and the haphazardly thrown covers don’t leave much to Steve’s imagination. He’s not sure how much sleep he’s going to be getting tonight. Steve quietly gets into the bed, keeping a small distance between him and Bucky. 

  


Bucky opens one eye and yawns. “Steve?”

  


Steve just hums and moves in a little closer. He feels Bucky snake an arm around him, the cold metal electrifying his skin. It takes away some of the heat from sharing a bed with someone in the middle of summer, and Steve starts drifting asleep, eyes closed and breathing steady. 

  


“What’re you doing here?” Bucky whispers. His lips are so close to Steve’s ear. He doesn’t know what makes him shiver - that, or the metal. Both, probably.

  


Steve tries to roll over but Bucky’s arm holds him back. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  


“Hmm,” Bucky says, voice low. Steve feels Bucky’s voice in his chest, like thunder. 

  


Bucky relaxes his grip on Steve and turns, his chest now flush against Steve’s back, and then he moves so that his other arm is around him too. Steve is now completely restrained, and it feels kind of… nice, he supposes. He likes the feeling of Bucky holding him back if he tries to move, likes the feeling of another body tucked against his. They fit perfectly together, and Steve isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. 

  


But he’s too tired to think about that now, too tired to figure out whether it’s the metal or the restraints or just Bucky that turns him on, or if it’s all three. He falls asleep to the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest, two bodies completely in sync.

  


-

  


Steve’s pretty sure it’s obvious that he spent the night with Bucky, but Peter doesn’t question it. Natasha raises an eyebrow over breakfast, clearly aware that the shirt Steve’s wearing isn’t his, but she doesn’t actually mention it. Even Tony, who takes any chance he gets to intrude on other people’s business, leaves it alone. Steve doesn’t care about what they think as much as he cares what Peter thinks. Peter’s still a kid, he’s fifteen, and Steve doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Not that if they were, well, having sex it’d be a bad thing, it’s just… Steve doesn’t want to ruin Peter’s summer with that, because he knows how much it sucks to get stuck in a room next to two people having sex. It’s a nightmare.

  


Steve feels a little guilty when he goes back to Bucky’s room that night, but it all goes away the second Bucky tugs him in closer. And maybe Steve’s unwilling to admit it, but it’s getting really difficult to sleep alone. That should be a problem. But it’s Bucky he’s sleeping with, it’s Bucky who holds him every night, and Steve can’t find it in himself to call that a problem.

  


-

  


“Can you watch Peter for the day?” Tony asks, letting himself in Bucky’s room without asking. He leans against the door, arms crossed expectantly.

  


Steve groans and pushes himself up to look at the clock. It’s not even nine. “Jesus, Tony.”

  


“Not the same person, sorry,” Tony says, flashing a smile. “Can you get up already? I’m going to be late to my meeting and I promised Peter you’d go out with him today.”

  


Steve runs a hand through his hair and frowns. Bucky’s pretending to be asleep, still half-curled up on the other side of the bed, but Steve can tell he’s awake. And he’s probably very pissed.

  


“You promised him?” Steve asks. He groans again. He’s not a morning person. “What if I had plans today?”

  


Tony stares at him for a minute and shrugs. “I knew you didn’t.”

  


That’s a good point. Steve almost never has plans, and if he does, they’re at the compound. It has basically everything he needs. “And you couldn’t have waited for me to wake up?”

  


“Both of you, actually,” Tony says. He takes a pillow from the floor, one of the ones Steve kicked off last night, and throws it at Bucky’s head. Bucky just lets out a low-voiced, totally-not-hot growl. “Kid wants to spend time with Frosty the Snowman, too. I don’t know why. He’s weird.”

  


“I have a name,” Bucky grumbles. He rolls onto his back and sighs. Steve pointedly doesn’t look at him. Because he’s shirtless. And now’s a terrible time to get turned on. 

  


Tony shrugs. “Pepper’s going to hate me if I’m late to the meeting. Take care of Peter. Go to a museum, or something, I don’t care. Well, I do. Make sure it’s something fun.”

  


“Sleeping is fun,” Bucky says, but Tony just leaves and closes the door. Bucky groans again. “I can’t believe we got stuck with the kid.”

  


“He’s not so bad,” Steve says. Which is true, honest-to-god, but he kind of didn’t want to spend the whole day taking Peter on a field trip. He was looking forward to staying in bed, getting to sleep in late. 

  


Bucky sighs. “Well, I guess we have to go stare at some fossils or something. Whatever kids like these days.”

  


-

  


They take Tony’s private plane to the Smithsonian to see the Captain America exhibit. Steve’s already been here a few times, but Peter hasn’t, so he supposes it’ll be fun. Bucky looks like he’d rather die. 

  


“This is so cool,” Peter says. He’s standing at the entrance to the exhibit, staring at a big Captain America poster on the wall. It’s from the forties, a few months before Steve’s plane had crashed. He remembers posing for it, in a room full of generals and reporters and people who thought they were better than him, and it feels weird. A man out of time.

  


“Nerds,” Bucky says under his breath. He pulls at Steve’s hand, taking him further into the exhibit. Peter barely manages to catch up with them.

  


“I’m at the Captain America exhibit with Captain America,” Peter squeals. “Awesome.”

  


Steve glares at him. “Keep it down.”

  


Peter nods. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just got a bit excited.”

  


Bucky snorts.  _ A bit _ seems like an understatement. The exhibit is way more crowded than the last time Steve was here. It’s full of families and little kids, and there’s a few teenage girls fawning over a model of him. There’s something so strange about being here. Steve remembers everything that happened, everything they talk about. He can hear the voices of his friends, The Howling Commandos, can see them making their way through the base. He vividly remembers Bucky at the Hydra lab, strapped to a table but still smiling. He remembers-

  


“People still think I’m dead,” Bucky says. He’s standing in front of the memorial dedicated to him. Steve’s read that thing so many times, he has it memorized. 

  


Steve shrugs. Peter’s somewhere in the exhibit, wandering around. “Some people. Some know you as-”

  


Bucky nods. He looks the same as he does in the picture, but different at the same time. He’s got a metal arm, for one, and his hair’s longer, but it’s also the way he carries himself. He’s been through a lot since his “death”, and the years haven’t been kind to him. Steve can see the marks Hydra left on him, and it hurts. Because Bucky may be here, physically, but Steve lost him, lost the Bucky he knew, a long time ago. 

  


“How come no one’s recognized us yet?” Bucky asks. 

  


Steve laughs. “They don’t expect us to be here.”

  


“You guys coming? The video’s about to start!” Peter calls. He waves at them from behind a wall covered in text about the time Steve rescued the 107th from Hydra. That was when he lost Bucky. He just didn’t know it then. 

  


-

  


By the time they get back to the compound, it’s starting to get dark outside, and Steve feels like he could just fall asleep in the car. Bucky offered to drive. Steve doesn’t know if it’s because he wanted to be nice or because he wanted a distraction. Either way, he appreciates it. Peter’s asking Bucky questions about the war, his curiousity and excitement still as intense as it was before the exhibit. Another nice thing Bucky’s doing: he’s taking every question. 

  


“How was it?” Bruce asks. He’s helping Clint ice a batch of cupcakes, still warm from the oven. For a bunch of superheroes, they all really like junk food. Not that Steve’s complaining.

  


“Awesome,” Peter says. He’s practically bouncing. “We went to that Captain America exhibit-”

  


Steve leaves Peter and Bruce to themselves. He’s too exhausted to get dragged into a conversation, and he’s pretty sure his bed is calling his name. Natasha mouths  _ good night _ as he passes her and heads upstairs. His whole body feels heavy, weighing him down. God, Steve really needs to sleep. He makes his way to Bucky’s room, foregoing pajamas and just dropping dead on the bed. He doesn’t even realize it isn’t his room until he picks up on the distinctly Bucky scent on the pillows. 

  


There’s something a little unfamiliar about it, and just as Steve feels himself drifting asleep, it hits him: Bucky’s not here. He hopes Bucky got the message, too tired to go get him, and falls asleep to the same thought running through his mind like a broken record machine:  _ Bucky’s not coming. _

  


Steve wakes up a few hours later, still groggy and unsure of what time it is, to the soft patter of footsteps in the room. He turns over a little so he can see the door - it’s open, just enough for some light from the hallway to spill into the room. But he can’t see anyone, not from where he’s lying. Steve groans and rolls back over, shoving his face in his pillow. He probably just had a dream. Probably left the door open.

  


But then he feels his bed dip, and there’s another body right against his. Warm skin. Soft hair tickling his neck. A metal arm draped across his stomach.

  


“Bucky?” Steve asks, voice rough from sleep. He’s pretty sure he’s dreaming.

  


Bucky hums against him. It surprises Steve every time, just how powerful those vibrations are. “I’m right here, baby. Go back to sleep.”

  


Steve’s eyes open and he’s suddenly very awake. This is the first time Bucky’s called him  _ baby _ , the first time ever.  _ Sweetheart _ was an inside joke, a little friendly banter from the forties.  _ Kitten _ is a tease, Bucky’s natural charm shining through when he lets his walls down.  _ Baby _ is brand-new, a never-before-used pet name Steve sort of likes. It makes him all warm and melty and indescribably happy. 

  


Maybe Bucky didn’t even mean to say it. He’s probably just really tired, wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. Or maybe he did mean it. Steve’s kind of hoping it’s the latter.

  


“Shit,” Bucky says under his breath. His arm tenses around Steve.

  


Steve squirms and rolls over so that he’s facing Bucky, barely two inches away from his perfect eyes and perfect lips. He looks a little stressed. Understandable. 

  


“Bucky,” Steve whispers. He tentatively reaches one hand up and runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It’s always soft. He feels like he’s shaking - nerves, probably. “What are we?”

  


Bucky glances at his lips for a split second, his tongue darting out. Steve notices his breaths are unsteady again. “I don’t know.”

  


“What can we be?” Steve asks. He knows where this is going, but part of the fun is watching the story unravel itself. 

  


Bucky’s grip on his waist tightens, holding Steve firmly in place. It’s a subconscious thing, Steve knows that. He does a lot of things without realizing, things he was once programmed to do. Things Hydra taught him to do during a mission. It turns Steve on, just a little.

  


“Anything you want,” Bucky says. His voice is gentle, soft around the edges. It sounds suspiciously like  _ I love you _ . He’s letting his iron-tipped walls down, finally, and now Steve can really see what he’s feeling. He always knew Bucky loved him, to some degree. Friends love each other. 

  


But this- the way Bucky’s looking at him, the way he’s holding him, it’s all confirmation that their love is more than that. 

  


“I want you,” Steve says, and he barely has any time to think before Bucky pulls him closer and kisses him. 

  


Bucky’s lips are chapped and warm and he tastes like coffee, and his hands burn like ice and fire against Steve. They haven’t moved, haven’t dared to open their mouths and drink the other in, let each other settle on their tongues and minds and seep through their skin. But it’s still good. It’s still the best thing Steve’s experienced in a really long time, and it’s certainly his first real kiss in seventy years. As they’re kissing languidly, Bucky rolls Steve over until he’s practically on top of him, both hands holding him down. 

  


“One word,” Bucky says, rocking his hips against Steve’s. He’s basically grinding, it’s unfair. Steve whines, tries to recapture his lips, but Bucky pushes him down. “One word, baby, and I’ll stop.”

  


Steve whines again. He doesn’t really want to talk right now, not with the way Bucky’s moving against him. “Okay, sure, yeah.”

  


Bucky smiles and leans down, his lips brushing Steve’s cheek. Steve can feel him smile. “Okay. Good.”

  


They’re kissing again, a lot less lazy than last time. Bucky’s skilled, doing things with his tongue that Steve honestly thinks should be illegal. He briefly thinks about the open door, that maybe they should close it, but if he tries his best to stay quiet, that won’t be an issue. One of the things he’s learned about Peter is that he’s a deep sleeper. Bucky moves his arm as he kisses Steve, and his hand slips past the hem of Steve’s boxers, the metal cupping his ass. Steve lets out a gasp against Bucky’s lips. He hadn’t been expecting that, even though he really wants to know what the metal feels like against him, inside him. 

  


“I love you,” Bucky says, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “Let me show you just how much.”

  


-

  


Bucky, flushed and debauched, his lips trailing kisses down Steve's chest, is the best thing Steve's seen in a century.

  


(And the metal’s the best thing he’s felt. Not that anyone needs to know that.)

  


-

  


Steve’s body feels like jelly. He can barely find the energy to sit up or stay awake. He nearly falls asleep while Bucky tries to clean him up. In all honesty, Steve hasn’t physically exerted himself like this in so long, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to be really sore tomorrow. But it’s worth it. Because Bucky’s looking at Steve like he’s the center of the universe, and it’s exactly the moment Steve’s been waiting for his whole life. 

  


“You good, kitten?” Bucky asks. He wraps an arm around Steve’s waist to keep him upright. “Need anything?”

  


Steve shakes his head but Bucky gets him a bottle of water anyway. The exhaustion is finally getting to him, and he feels more spent than he ever has. All the water disappears in less than ten minutes. Bucky tells him that isn’t healthy, but Steve doesn’t care. He can’t find it in himself to care when they just- they finally did what they were too scared to do seventy years ago. It feels incredibly liberating, to know that they can love each other in this world without having to hide. 

  


“Are you staying?” Steve slurs, eyes drooping shut. He wants to sleep, desperately, but he needs to make sure that Bucky will be there when he wakes up. He just wants to know that Bucky’s got him.

  


Bucky puts a hand on either side of Steve’s face and grins. He looks gorgeous post-sex. Steve’s going to have to remember how he looks, draw him later. Or he’ll just have to see it again. Several times. 

  


“Always,” Bucky says. He laughs quietly. Steve feels the vibrations echo in his chest. “It’s my room anyway, Stevie.”

  


“I know,” Steve mumbles. He flops down on the bed, pulling Bucky with him. 

  


Things will never be the same between them now, he’s well aware. They can’t go back to the way things were before, pretend this never happened. Not that Steve wants that. Quite the opposite, actually. He’d very much like to call Bucky his boyfriend,  _ be _ Bucky’s boyfriend, parade this wonderful man down the streets and make out with him as they watch a sappy movie. 

  


Steve wants to do all the things he never thought they’d get to do, like kiss. And go on dates. And have sex. And adopt a puppy, maybe, if no one else has a problem with it. 

  


“Get some sleep,” Bucky whispers, gently tucking Steve under the covers. He’s too hot for them, so he just kicks them back off, and Bucky huffs. 

  


Steve closes his eyes, not bothering to move. His face is pressed into Bucky’s chest, and he has one leg dangling off the bed, but it’s comfortable. It’s  _ home _ . 

  


-

  


When Steve wakes up, Bucky’s not in bed. He’s hugging a pillow in lieu of him, Bucky’s distinct scent still lingering in the sheets and the taste of his lips on Steve’s tongue. But Bucky’s not actually there. 

  


Steve grumbles, pushing himself up and running a hand through his messy hair. He wonders if last night was a mistake, if Bucky’s not here. Obviously he’d want to avoid Steve afterwards. Obviously Steve was acting impulsively. He sighs, rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the sunlight, and-

  


Bucky walks in, drying his hair with a fluffy towel. And he’s wearing absolutely nothing. Completely naked. And the door’s open. Steve chokes. Bucky glances at him and smirks. He knows full well what he’s doing.

  


“You could be seen,” Steve splutters. 

  


Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Oh, wouldn’t you like that?”

  


“Jesus Christ, it’s too early,” Steve groans. He goes back to lying down, curled around the pillow. Who gave Bucky the right to walk in here first thing in the morning, wearing nothing? 

  


Bucky just laughs, pulls on a pair of boxers and walks over to the bed, clambering on top. He takes the pillow away and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s face. 

  


“I’m making breakfast,” he says, in a voice that’s too goddamn husky for this time of day. “See you downstairs.”

  


It doesn’t take long for Steve to stumble downstairs, still groggy with sleep, barely registering anything that’s going on. Peter’s already in the kitchen, eagerly helping Bucky make pancakes. He’s mixing the batter, chatting about a weird dream he had last night. Bucky nods along. Steve wants to get him back in bed, get him all to himself, so they can kiss languidly and have sex in the bright morning light. 

  


Natasha and Clint are there too, sitting at the breakfast table with mugs of coffee. There’s no sign of Tony, thankfully. Steve’s not in the mood to deal with him so early.

  


Bucky looks up at him, pushes his hair out of his face, and grins. “Hey, sugar. Hungry?”

  


“For you,” Steve mumbles, tripping as he makes his way across the kitchen. He ignores Peter’s squeaky hello and walks right up to Bucky, resting his chin on his shoulder and taking a deep breath of that musty sex smell that still clings to him.

  


Natasha slowly looks up. “What the hell.”

  


“Good morning, Cap,” Clint says, eyeing him suspiciously. 

  


Steve ignores both of them, instead opting to mouth at Bucky’s jaw. He can feel Bucky’s heartbeat picking up under his fingers, and it’s so deliriously exciting. Bucky keeps flipping the pancakes and lets his other arm,  _ the metal one _ , hang loose around Steve’s waist, his fingers tapping against his ass. Maybe waking up wasn’t such a bad idea. 

  


“Steve,” Bucky breathes, grasping at his arm. “Steve, baby, you have to let me cook. I can’t cook when you’re doing that.”

  


Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “That’s the point.”

  


Bucky huffs and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to make you breakfast?”

  


“Want  _ you _ ,” Steve mumbles. From the breakfast table, Natasha loudly clears her throat. 

  


Bucky laughs, his voice low in Steve’s ear, and noses at Steve’s cheek. “Later, baby. Pancakes first.”

  


Steve doesn’t let go of Bucky as he continues making pancakes. He just wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and listens to his breath. After a few minutes, Peter starts rambling about how excited he is to go to their pool today, like Tony promised him. Clint keeps glancing at Steve, the corner of his lips turned up in a smug grin. It’s not really a bad thing. Steve wouldn’t trade this moment with Bucky for anything in the world. 

  


-

  


They’re stumbling back upstairs the minute everyone finishes eating. Bucky’s got one hand gripping the back of Steve’s neck and he’s using the other one to guide them through the hall. They crash into the loft’s railing anyway, breathing laughs into each other’s mouths. Steve’s starting to think that making out and walking isn’t a good combination. But they make it to Bucky’s room unscathed, falling onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs. 

  


Bucky’s straddling Steve, nuzzling his jaw and pressing soft kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. Steve’s clawing at his back, trying to pull Bucky’s shirt up. He feels Bucky’s breath against his cheek, and just as he tries to shift into a more comfortable position, Bucky recaptures his lips. Their kiss is sloppy and open-mouthed, lazy in contrast to the desperation Steve had felt last night. Like they’ve got all the time in the world, the universe dancing in the palms of their hands. 

  


Bucky sits back up and starts pulling his shirt off, slow and unfairly teasing, and Steve pushes himself up on his elbows to get a better view. And then, just as Bucky  _ finally _ tosses his shirt on the ground, Steve notices a smudge of blue by the door that he doesn’t remember seeing before.

  


A smudge of blue that’s oddly the exact same shade as Peter’s shirt-

  


Shit. It  _ is _ Peter.

  


“Peter!” Steve squeaks. 

  


Bucky startles and falls off the bed. Peter looks halfway between mortified and amused. Steve isn’t sure where he falls on that spectrum either. 

  


“Sorry,” Peter says. “I didn’t mean to- uh, interrupt you guys. Um, Mr. Stark just… he said- he wants you-”

  


“We’ll be down soon,” Steve says, flinching at how raw and rough his voice sounds. Man. Kissing Bucky for ten minutes does a lot to him, apparently. That’s an important discovery. 

  


Peter nods hastily and says, “Okay. Cool. I’ll, uh-”

  


He jerks his thumb towards the hall, turns to leave, and abruptly runs into the doorway. Peter just laughs, mutters something that sounds suspiciously like an apology, and darts off, letting the door close gently behind him. Bucky’s still sitting on the ground, looking rather pissed. 

  


“We need to get a  _ do not disturb _ sign,” Bucky grumbles, climbing back on the bed. He lays down next to Steve, trailing one finger down his chest.

  


Steve hums. “Or a lock.”

  


Bucky closes his eyes and sighs. “Or a lock. Or both.”

  


Steve hums again. He’s content to just lounge around, spend the rest of the day in bed with Bucky. But Tony does need them downstairs - according to Peter, who’s really the only reliable source in this entire building anyway. 

  


“Later,” Bucky whispers, mouthing along Steve’s collarbone. 

  


Steve likes that word.  _ Later _ . It means there’s a whole world of possibilities waiting. And it’s a promise, too, that there’s more to come. More to see, more to do, more to  _ feel _ . They still have a lot to figure out, but that’s what  _ later _ means. They’ll get to it. And this time, they can take all the time they want. 

  


_ Later. _ Right now, it’s Steve favourite word. 

  


Bucky tugs at his arm and says, “Seriously, Stevie, I promise. Later.”

  


And Steve believes him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Through all the Infinity War angst, I still managed to write a happy ending. Yay! Come yell about Bucky Barnes with me or give me a prompt on [ tumblr ](http://epo-nine.tumblr.com)! This fic also has a [ playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/user/blqhkc60wdzgn0sen3w8w2lpw/playlist/4k9FJPHNXi1GMVEXONE4Ss?si=VjqCv_2fSGSt4p6ShNZmCg).


End file.
